The Chair

Authors Note: This story could fit into multiple categories. to prevent anyone from getting blindsided, it has some N/C overtones, some bondage overtones and other themes. It's meant to be erotic fantasy, so if you have trouble suspending disbelief it's probably not for you. Thanks to Blackshang and Cloudy for editing and impression reading.

*

Candice shuddered as she got out of her car. Her grandfather's old house always did that to her. The decrepit Victorian just looked like something right off the set of a slasher movie.

The old man was gone now, and with his passing, there had been the usual fights over his fortune. Webster had been a mean and creepy old bastard and his will had been his last chance to take shots at his grandchildren, all of whom had disappointed him in some way.

Her cousin Tom, Webster's favorite to hate, had been left with two companies. It had seemed so surprising and everyone had thought the old man was trying to make amends right up until Tom discovered both companies were failing, were being investigated by the SEC and other governmental bodies, and were facing crippling class action lawsuits. When all was said and done, he would be lucky to get out with his shirt.

Her cousin Christy had been left a lifetime supply of condoms and birth control pills. Webster's none-to-subtle hint she fucked around too much. And so it went. The old bastard had hit everyone. Except her.

Her mother had been his favorite child, in as much as he liked any of his offspring. Candice had been kept carefully away from him. The few times she had been around him, she had always remained polite and quiet. The fact was, he gave her the creeps, and when she got older she always felt like he was undressing her with his eyes. Luckily, she had been transferred to the Tokyo office soon after graduation and had been out of the country for much of his last five years.

So she had missed the infamous blowup at the annual Christmas get together. The old man had gone off on everyone, from her mother to the great grandkids. Her "flower-child" aunt, Becky, believed the old man had been possessed by an evil spirit in the house. She had even gone so far as to try and have an exorcism done on him, much to the old man's annoyance.

Webster Carpenter had been nothing if not vindictive and she wasn't comfortable here, even though he was two years in the grave. Still, the house and property were worth a cool ten million. His stipulation that she had to live there for a year had been a shock. She had hoped to just sell it without even visiting. Luckily for her, they had an office in nearby White Plains and she was able to get a transfer for a year. It would make for a hellacious commute, over two hours one way. Still, that seemed to be a small price to pay in the grand scheme of things.

The key the lawyer had given her turned easily in the old lock and the door swung open. As she expected, everything inside was coated in a layer of dust. It was just as she always remembered from her childhood, from the big portrait of her grandfather in the foyer, to the slightly run down appearance of the antique furnishings. She had hoped some of her relations would be on hand to help with the clean up, but the lawyer had dissuaded her from calling. Apparently, there had been a terrible row over the furnishings, and that whole side of her family wasn't speaking to her side. According to him, her cousins had resented the fact she was getting the house and furnishings. There was also the matter of the missing twenty five million. Apparently, cousin Rich thought it was in the house.

The police had arrested him twice for breaking and entering. The cousins had all contested the will, but Web had foreseen that. The executor had been empowered to draw off an annuity to fight the legal battles. The will was airtight anyway, so it had all been settled before she even returned to the states.

Candice knew it was wrong to think ill of the dead, but she couldn't help but believe the will had been written for precisely that result. To sew discord. It would be just like the old man.

***

It took most of her week's vacation to dust, mop, sweep and polish. Removing her grandfather's brooding portrait from the foyer had been her first order of business. The bedding company had come on Monday to replace the mattress on the big poster bed. Candice had slept on the sofa rather than upstairs. A trip to town had produced new sheets, pillows, pillowcases, curtains and knick-knacks. She was really glad her time in Japan had precluded her from amassing a lot of junk of her own, as the old place was filled to overflowing with furniture as it was. She would have liked to sell some of it, not only to make room, but to give her some cash to buy a few things, but she was barred from doing so until the year was out.

She piled most of Webster's bedroom stuff in a spare room, and redid the master bedroom to be more open and cheerful. Candice also renovated the kitchen somewhat and the living room. She was used to apartment living, so she simply closed off the rest of the forty odd rooms. Her plan was simply to live in the three rooms while she tackled the others one at a time, carefully noting what was in them. She hoped to have some documentation on some of the pieces, before she was able to call the auctioneers in to get rid of it.

Even with a new look, the master bedroom felt uncomfortable to her and she often slept on the sofa, especially when winter came and the big fireplace made it the coziest room in the drafty old house.

***

Candice woke with a start. She glanced quickly all around the room. Something had awakened her, but she was unsure of what, and felt chills along her spine. The old place was creepy, the old man had been creepy and she felt very suddenly like someone was watching her.

She had almost convinced herself it was her mind playing tricks on her, when she noticed a bookcase, near the fireplace was out of place. The books were still neatly lined up in rows, but the case itself seemed canted outward. Her curiosity overcame her trepidation, and she got up. She approached the bookcase, and then noticed it really was canted outward. Candice put her hand on the smooth wood and tugged. To her surprise, the bookcase opened outward on silent hinges, revealing a darkened staircase.

She wanted to investigate, but her fears were stronger than her curiosity, so she decided to wait until morning. Candice couldn't find any latch or catch, so she used a chair to prop the secret door open.

The next morning, armed with her trusty .357 magnum and a flashlight, she entered the small opening and descended the narrow stair after a thorough search reveled no light switch or overhead pull-chain.

The staircase opened out into a large, square chamber, about thirty feet by thirty feet. Unlike the staircase, Candice easily found a light switch and threw it. Subtle, indirect light illuminated the room. The floor was covered in a thick, shag carpet. The walls were unadorned, but paneled in a light oak that seemed to give the room a kind of warmth. In the center of the room, there was a strange chair, which appeared to be the only furnishing.

It was a massive piece, made of dark wood and sitting on a raised metal dais. The back was straight and upholstered in a soft, red leather. The arms were curiously shaped, but also upholstered in red leather. The legs were strange, Queen Anne legs, but also upholstered where one's claves would rest.

The metal dais seemed to actually be part of the chair now that she looked; the seat was bare metal, with only a round red leather pad to rest your ass on. She could see the outline of cubbyholes in several places, but she couldn't find any latch to open them.

Intricate carvings of leering demons and ecstatic feminine faces decorated the whole thing. The arm rests ending in fiercely scowling dragon heads. The chair had a vaguely sinister feel to it and she gave it a wide berth as she investigated the only other feature of the room. This was a small, console with a big red button and six small, buttons in a row that reminded her of the push buttons on the old eight track player in Grandpa's car.

She tried all the buttons, but nothing happened. They had probably been attached to stereo equipment or something, she reasoned.

After a thorough investigation, she satisfied herself that the room was just a harmless basement room, possibly her grandfather's Av room. Whatever had been here, it was gone now.

She cut off the light, ascended the stair and closed the door, hearing it click shut. Maybe she would discover the opening mechanism later, when she had the energy to worry with it. For now, she preferred it shut, even though she knew that was silly.

***

Candice awoke with a start. That feeling, that there were eyes upon her was there again, but as before, she saw no one in the room. She was about to close her eyes again when she noticed the secret door was standing ajar. She broke out in gooseflesh and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. She stood and wrapped her robe tightly around her shoulders.

She thought she could detect a faint glow at the back of the stair, as if the lights were on downstairs. Grabbing the gun, she edged to the top of the stairs. There was no question now the light was on in the strange room.

"Hello?" she called.

Silence greeted her call, and she felt foolish for even trying. She was alone in the house, but try as she might to convince herself, she didn't feel that way. She edged into the space on the landing and peered down into the darkness.

"Hello?" she called again. She had one foot on the top stair, when the bookcase slammed shut. Candice jumped, as the whole passage was plunged into darkness, with only the weak glow of the room lighting at the very foot visible. She pressed back into the corner and held her breath, the gun before her in her shaking hands. Nothing moved, there was no sound and after her eyes adjusted, she found it wasn't even all that dark. Annoyed with herself for letting her childish fears run away with her, she began pushing on the book case, but it was shut firm.

She searched for a catch or a latch or something that would unlock it, but after half an hour and pushing on every protuberance in the foyer, she began to panic.

"Breathe," she said aloud.

No one would build a secret door, which they couldn't open from the inside, she reasoned. If the passage only accessed one room, then the unlocking mechanism was probably located in the room. She remembered the strange console downstairs and actually laughed. Of course. The door probably could be locked and unlocked from down there electronically. That would explain both the console and why the door kept opening on its own. It was so old it was probably malfunctioning. It would also explain why nothing had happened when she pressed the button earlier, the door was already propped open at that time.

Reassured by her rationalizing, or at least, trying to be blase' about it in the face of her uncertainty, she started down the steps. At the bottom, she turned and passed through the small stone arch and into the room. As she thought, the lights were on, providing a soft, warm, indirect glow. She proceeded to the strange console and depressed the big button, but nothing happened. She hit it several more times, but still nothing happened.

She fought down her rising panic and tried to think. No one would miss her until Monday at the earliest. And even if someone came, they might never find her down here. She examined the console again. She depressed all six of the smaller buttons in their turn, but nothing happened.

In frustration she hit the big button again. She heard a whirring sound, and whirled, almost shooting blindly. The long wall, the one farthest from her was rotating. When it clicked shut, she was facing a giant television screen. When nothing further happened, she approached it, but it had neither button nor dial.

After several minutes of investigation, she returned to the console and hesitantly pressed the big button again. Like magic, the television screen rotated back and the blank wall returned.

When she depressed it again, the television screen rotated back into view. Candice examined the control pad again and realized the fifth button was still depressed. She pressed another halfway, until the fifth one popped out and then pressed the big button. Nothing.

Candice depressed the sixth button, but nothing happened. She had expected that. She hit the big button and jumped as the screen flared to life and sound poured out of hidden speakers. The show was apparently a heavy BDS&M flick, with lots of theatric moaning and wailing. Candice actually smiled.

"Maybe you weren't such a stick in the mud after all," she said to the silent room and hit the big button again, which killed the show.

"But you were a luddite," she added, as she now recognized the console as working in a very primitive manner. You depressed a button, then hit the big button, like on a cash register. Realizing this she depressed the first button and tried it. The wall in front of the chair spun around, to reveal another big screen.

The second, revealed a closet on the back wall. It was a wardrobe and Candice wanted to investigate, but first she wanted to open the door.

The third opened a small, safe like cabinet in the wall above the console. Candice checked, but it seemed empty.

The forth button opened sliding panels in the roof. Chains, ropes, and even one of those black, free floating bondage chairs were slowly lowered. Additionally, two sections of the floor slid back and a large horse and Maltese cross both rose and locked into place with audible clicks. She noticed a big screen was also built into the ceiling, directly over the chair.

She went to the stairwell, but the door seemed to still be closed. Candice went and opened the wardrobe. Inside were whips, manacles, collars, tight latex cat suits with appropriate cut outs, masks, stiletto heels, handcuffs, bondage gear, and several varieties of vibrator and dildo, all neatly stored.

"Jeeze, Webster, you must have been some kind of freak," she said, shaking her head.

At the back of the wardrobe, she found another button, set into a square of brass, when she depressed it, a small bin, like a cash drawer, extended at about waist level.

Depressing the button a second time closed the drawer, and a third opened it again.

Leaving the wardrobe, she returned to the console. While she was examining it, she noticed the safe she thought had been empty, actually held a single sheet of paper. She pulled it out and examined it. It was a crude stick person diagram with few words. It showed the wardrobe and a stick figure.

She put the paper on the chair with her gun, then went back to searching for the button that would open the door. After several minutes of searching, she grew frustrated and felt her fears resurfacing. She glanced at the wardrobe, at the paper on the chair and shrugged.

Candice took a deep breath, removed her sheer robe and pressed the button. When the drawer appeared, she placed her robe in it and pushed the button. The drawer closed, but nothing happened. She walked over and investigated the console, but no new button had appeared.

She returned to the wardrobe, depressed the button and it opened, revealing her robe. Candice felt silly, but took off her bra and panties and added them to the drawer, still nothing happened.

"Fuck," she said aloud, wondering if the electronics had failed. It would be just her luck. Then another idea occurred to her. Perhaps the sheer robe and underthings didn't weigh enough? She opened the drawer again and added one of the cat suits and a pair of spike heels. This time when the drawer closed she heard a whirring sound and a click.

"Bingo!" she said excitedly, hurrying over to the console.

There, behind a slide away panel was a blue button. She depressed it and heard a soft hiss from behind her. She turned quickly, but could see nothing different. Depressing the button again did nothing.

Frustrated and angry, she returned to the wardrobe and pressed the button. She felt small and vulnerable enough and wanted her clothes back.

"What the fuck?!" she exploded when the button clicked but the drawer did not appear.

She mashed it several more times, but nothing happened.

"Piece of junk!" she cried kicking it and hurting her bare foot in the process. She turned and started back for her gun, which was still sitting on the chair. When she neared it, she noticed a piece of paper, on the floor. Could that have been the sound she heard when she first pressed the blue button? She hurried over, to find a small slot, similar to those where a cash receipt would print from an old fashioned adding machine. Obviously, the piece of paper had come from the slot in the base of the chair.

The paper was another crude diagram. With a stick person and the chair.

1.Sit down 2.Locate red button, behind panel X 3.Depress button

She examined the diagram and found that the red button was supposedly behind the carved dragon head on the right armrest. No amount of pushing or prying worked and it seemed to be totally solid and part of the chair. She shrugged and sat in the chair. Nothing happened at first, but after several tense moments, the Dragon's jaw opened and a small red button, mounted on a silver fixture extended.

She struggled and struggled, but no amount of pressure seemed to make any impression on them. She pressed the button again, and screamed curses at it, as the button slowly withdrew and the dragon's mouth closed.

With her free hand, she tried to find some way to open the manacle imprisoning her hand, but it was no use. Eventually the adrenalin wore off and she slumped.

"All right girl, you've got to think. Think, think, think," she said aloud.

This technology is ancient. Everything has to be just right. The wardrobe button failed, until the weight was right. She thought back to the diagram. The stick figure had been sitting upright, with both arms on the armrests. Maybe it wouldn't work, unless all the manacles had sprung? Her gun was on the floor, where she had placed it before sitting, but no amount of stretching would allow her to grab it, and even if she could, then what? She would be just as likely to hurt herself as free herself taking potshots at the manacles.

Candice debated for a long while. Eventually, she reached a conclusion: she would have to let her other arm be captured. Before she actually did it though, she made herself mentally review, one last time. She did have a hand free, but without tools of some kind, she was held fast. Everything else in this bizarre room seemed to be triggered only with specific input. She could keep her arm free, but in doing so, it might never trip whatever device there was to get her out.

With a resigned sigh, she placed her arm on the other armrest. She didn't even jump when the manacle caught tight. She waited, but nothing happened.

"Shit," she exclaimed.

A million wild thoughts ran through her head, but they were panic inspired and she eventually clamed herself. She found herself speaking out loud, as much to have sound as to keep things clear.